


In Grief

by scifishipper



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-01
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifishipper/pseuds/scifishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dee watches Lee grieve for Kara</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in part by a conversation with cynicalshadows and by taragel's recent fic, Unsettling, which features narrative from Dee's perspective.
> 
> Spoilers: Through Maelstrom

Dee held herself rigid, shock jolting in her belly. Her eyes were locked on the Admiral, his face pulled back in a tight and painful grimace. He ground out the words, "We're sending the search and rescue birds right now. We'll find her."

Lee's strained voice broke the stunned silence. "No, Dad. It's no use. Her ship's in piece—her ship's in pieces. No ship. We lost her." Lee's voice broke, then deepened as he fought for composure.

The CIC was silent and still with shock. Condition one clangons blared in the distance as the crew's minds narrowed on the one unbelievable fact they now knew to be true: Starbuck was gone.

Dee watched the admiral swipe off his glasses, his face slack as he leaned over the con, holding himself upright. Tigh and Gaeta stared, mouths open, and some of the crew began to cry.

The Admiral took a deep breath, "Gaeta, set condition two throughout the ship." He paused, dazed. "Colonel Tigh, you have the con." He stared blindly ahead and left the CIC.

Dee looked down at her hands, white knuckled as she gripped the station. Oh, Gods. Poor Lee.

She addressed the XO. "Permission to leave, sir. I-I've got to go to the hangar deck." She had to see Lee. Thoughts were flipping over and over in her mind, images of Lee and Kara and the triangle they'd left behind.

Tigh stared at her for a moment, not comprehending. "Granted." His eyes wandered off, unfocused as he assumed command.

:: :: :: ::

Dee sped to the hangar deck, clenching her fists anxiously. She didn't know what to expect from Lee. Despite her jealousy and often intense dislike of the woman, she knew, painfully, that Lee loved Kara. And that he always would.

She arrived to see Lee sitting in his Viper, the crew holding themselves back from the usual routine of post-flight maintenance. As she looked around the room, faces were ashen and conversations hushed.

Lee sat in the cockpit of his viper, his helmet still on. Through the still closed canopy, she could see his pale face. Looking around the deck, she caught a few glances, quick and then down-turned eyes. She hesitated near the Viper until the Chief waved her forward. She stood far enough away that Lee could see her if he turned his head. She waited.

The crew moved slowly, checking the outside of the Viper for damage and making marks on their checklists. For some, routine managed the shock until they could retreat to privacy. Others had a harder time, crying and holding the hands of fellow crew, finding comfort in friends. But Lee just sat in his viper, for what seemed like an eternity.

When he finally moved, it was sudden, and heads snapped towards the sharp sound of the canopy slamming open. In quick motions, Lee unfastened his belt and took off the helmet, handing it to a crew member who'd scampered up the short ladder to the cockpit. With deliberate motions, steadying himself on the ship's frame, he climbed out of the viper. The crew's eyes were fastened on him now, watching in morbid fascination as Apollo descended.

He looked up and saw Dee. She felt, as much as saw, the raw pain in his eyes. She reached for him and slid an arm around his waist; his body was stiff, locked into tight control. The crew moved back as Tyrol waved off the post-flight sign-offs. Hushed whispers followed Dee and Lee as they walked slowly off the hangar deck.

:: :: :: ::

For a whole day, Lee lay in his rack, barely speaking, motioning Dee away when she approached or tried to speak. He ate haltingly and only after she begged him. He never met her eyes and she never saw him cry. She didn't know if he saved his crying for her absence or if he couldn't let the grief come at all.

The admiral had called, seeking out his son, but Lee refused to speak to him. The admiral simply sighed and hung up. She wondered if Lee registered the significance of his father's call; a concerned father, setting aside his own grief to reach out to his son. Dee knew how hard it was for Lee to be close to him, and she hoped Kara's death would bring them together.

The next morning, Lee roused himself and took a shower, preparing to attend the memorial service. Dee was grateful for the small shower in their quarters – she didn't know if Lee could manage the stares and strange looks of the crew if he'd been forced to use the communal showers. He shaved carefully and dressed with slow and deliberate motions. Dee helped him into his sash and gave him a quick hug. He stood still, not returning the affection and turned back to his locker when she moved away.

:: :: :: ::

The service was brief and reverent. Dee knew that the real memorial would occur later, in the pilot's rec, where they would all gather to drink and toast to Kara's memory. After the ceremony, Dee asked Lee if he would attend, but he just stared at her, unwilling to speak or answer. She squeezed his shoulder and left him alone.

:: :: :: ::

By the time Dee arrived at the wake, most of the pilots were drunk. Cheers and laughter rang out as new toasts to Starbuck came one after the other. Adama was there, observing, and drinking from a short glass. She approached her father-in-law and the two embraced.

After a moment, the admiral asked, "How's Lee?"

"Okay, I guess. He hasn't really said much." She eyed the old man carefully. "How are you, Admiral?"

"It's a rough day, Dee. A very rough day." His lips dipped briefly into a deeper frown. The pair stood there for a long time, watching, sometimes smiling as the pilots worked through their grief and shock – Starbuck-style.

When Lee finally arrived, many of the pilots were passed out or lolling in their chairs. Tonight, like no other night, everyone had set out to drink themselves into oblivion. Lee approached the Old Man and Dee, his lips drawn tight, managing only to cock one side into a rueful smile.

"Dad." He acknowledged Adama with a small nod and met Dee's eyes. "Looks like I missed all the fun." Dee smiled, it was the longest sentence he'd spoken in a day and a half.

"Yeah. There's not much left now but the clean up." She looked away, glancing around the room at the overturned chairs, spilled drinks and stumbling mourners.

Adama turned away and reached for a bottle. "Drink, Lee?"

Lee interrupted him, "No, Dad. Thanks, I'm fine." His voice was strained.

The admiral stopped, shooting Lee a doubtful look, and put the bottle back on the table. The admiral drank from his glass and glanced at Dee. She was watching Lee carefully, waiting for some sign or crack to appear.

The three stood silently, for a while, until Lee turned abruptly towards the door. He stopped in mid-turn and looked over at his father and Dee, his face twisted with barely concealed grief. "Um. I, uh… I have to go." He turned back and resumed his exit. Dee took a step to follow, but the Old Man place a hand on her arm.

"Let him go, Dee." She paused and looked at Adama. His eyes were sad and tired. She dipped her head and stepped back beside him.

"I think I'll take that drink, Sir." Adama poured her a short glass of brown liquor. They solemnly clinked glasses and drank.

:: :: :: ::

When Dee returned to their quarters, Lee was gone. She'd expected to find him, laid out on the bed, staring at the ceiling again. She was torn in her desire to help him. Part of her knew she should give him space, let him grieve as he needed to. But another part of her, the instinctive part, told her to find him. She trusted her instincts, spun the hatch wheel and headed down the corridor.

:: :: :: ::

Dee slipped silently into the darkened briefing room. The bright flashing lights stung her eyes as the footage from Lee's viper played. Lee sat in the first row of seats, a tall bottle resting on his knee. She paused, watching the footage, her own grief welling again into tears. She disliked Starbuck a great deal, but she recognized the loss felt by the entire ship and by the two men she loved above all others.

She walked silently towards the front of the room, hesitating only for a moment when Lee sensed her presence. She sat in the seat behind him and waited.

"Dee," was all he said. He took along draw from the bottle. She leaned forward and placed her hands on his shoulders. He stiffened at the touch, but she held firm.

After a few minutes and another long draw of alcohol, she felt him tremble beneath her hands. She squeezed his shoulders, ever so slightly, encouraging him with her fingers. The tremble strengthened and Lee dipped his head down. A low moan erupted from deep in his chest and he leaned forward in the seat. Dee's flattened palms slid down his back, soft against the rough uniform. His body vibrated with sobs, the spasms of grief flooding him. He held himself doubled over, dropping the now empty bottle to the floor, and cried.

Dee held still, her warm hands comforting him, until her instincts moved them rhythmically, soothing and comforting him as best she could. Dee's own face was wet with tears as she grieved for her husband's loss. Dee felt no satisfaction in Kara's death, only the deep sadness one feels when a beautiful light has been extinguished.

Lee cried for a long time. Deep, racking sobs punctuated by pauses of deep shuddering breaths, his attempts to recover shattered again and again by other waves of grief. Dee simply comforted him, rubbing his back and supporting him with her presence. She was grateful that he allowed her this gift, to be present when the rest of his world had fallen down.

Dee's stomach ached from the muscles that held her body up and arched over Lee's stiff back. When he quieted, she slid her hands around his biceps and squeezed. She leaned into him briefly to steady herself as she rose, straightening against the tight muscles in her back. She dipped over once, to plant a kiss on his dark hair, and broke their contact.

She slid out of the row and retreated to the back of the room. Finding the remote control, she pressed stop. The film stopped repeating and the room darkened briefly, brightening only a little when she flicked up the floor lights.

She watched Lee slump back into the seat, spent from crying, and she paused, staring at the top of his head. Her instincts had put fear and sadness into her belly as she realized the depths of his grief. Despite their recent closeness, she knew that this was his world falling apart, never to be whole again. And no matter how hard she tried, she knew that she would never replace Kara Thrace. She knew that she would never again revel in being the one he chose. Not anymore. She knew now, wholly and without doubt, that she'd just be the one he had left.


End file.
